Finding Sam Puckett
by freddiebenson
Summary: Every time she read the poem, Carly Shay slowly put the pieces together of why Sam left and where she had gone.
1. Chapter 1

It's been 2 months, 22 days, and 9 hours since Sam Puckett disappeared into thin air.

She was there, at Carly's loft, and then she was gone. Without a trace. No note. No letter. No clues to where she could have gone.

It wasn't until yesterday, July 11th, 2010, that Carly, Spencer, and me (Freddie) got a clue. That she was still out there.

**Freddie's POV**

I said dejectedly at my desk, staring out the window at the pouring rain. Life wasn't the same without Sam. I last saw her April 19th. I sighed. Suddenly, an idea perked me. Maybe, just maybe, I should send her an email. I began to type.

**Dear Sam,**

**Where are you? Why did you leave? Everyone misses you so much. Please come back Sam. We need you. Please give me something that gives me a clue where you are. If you're still... with us. Please Sam. **

**Freddie**

I sighed again, this time heavily.

10 minutes later, I got a reply. My eyes popped open it said I had an email from Sam. She was still out there. I sighed a deep breath of relief.

I clicked on the email tenatively.

**Dear Freddie,**

**I'll give you one clue.**

**Burnt Norton.**

**Sam.**

I stared, completely befuddled by her message. Burnt Norton? What? Is it a person? A place? A thing? What is it?

I can tell that finding Sam isn't going to be easy.

But I will find her.

I will.

* * *

I'm sorry this chapter is so short but I have a growing case of writer's block :/. Please forgive me! I promise that the next chapter will be MUCH better and longer.


	2. Chapter 2

_Carly's POV_

I was sitting on the couch, reading Tiger Beat. But I couldn't concentrate on it. My mind was on Sam. Where was she? Why did she leave?

Next thing I knew Freddie came bursting through the door with his laptop yelling, "Carly! Spencer! Come quick!" I sat up boltright. "What?" I asked excitedly.

"I got an email from Sam!" he said. I gave a shriek of joy. An email from Sam? Yes!

Spencer came out of the bathroom and said, "What? Did you find Sam?"

Freddie frowned. "Um, no. If we did she'd be here right now. But what we did find was an email from Sam!"

Spencer cried, "Really?" And we started jumping up and down.

After we finally calmed down, I asked, "Oh yeah. What did the email say, by the way?"

Freddie sighed and said, "She said 'I'll give you one hint. Burnt Norton.' Yeah. Great hint."

I frowned. "What's that? I've never heard of it." Freddie shrugged and said, "Spencer, do you know what it is?" He shook his head.

I said, "Well, we'll just have to Zaplook it." Freddie and Spencer nodded. I went over to the desktop computer and typed in 'Burnt Norton.'

The results popped up. I clicked on the first selection. The page came up. It said, "Burnt Norton, (No. 1 of Four Quartets.) T.S. Eliot."

I turned to Spencer and said, "Hey, isn't T.S. Eliot a famous guy who wrote poems?" Spencer replied, "Yeah, he is. What does it say?"

I turned back to the computer screen. "It says Burnt Norton is a poem I think." Freddie said urgently, "Well, read the poem! There might be a clue where Sam is in there."

I nodded.

_Burnt Norton (A Poem.):_

_Time present and time past_

_Are both perhaps present in time future,_

_And time future contained in time past._

_If all time is eternally present_

_All time is unredeemable._

_What might have been is an abstraction_

_Remaining a perpetual possibility_

_Only in a world of speculation._

_What might have been and what has been_

_Point to one end, which is always present._

_Footfalls echo in the memory_

_Down the passage which we did not take_

_Towards the door we never opened_

_Into the rose garden._

_My words echo_

_Thus, in your mind._

_But to what purpose_

_Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose leaves_

_I do not know._

I bit my lip and turned to face Spencer and Freddie. "There's a lot more of the poem. We can read the rest later."

"What do you think it means? There has to be a clue somewhere in that poem that can tell us where Sam is." Freddie said.

I sighed. "I know, but I don't know what the clue is. That's the thing." Spencer said, "None of us do. But we'll find Sam. We know that she's out there. Somewhere. The email proved that she isn't… you know, dead."

There was silence for a few minutes. Finally Spencer broke the ice. "Well, time for dinner. Spaghetti tacos sound good? Freddo, want to have dinner with us?"

Freddie nodded glumly.

I knew that this was going to be a long journey finding Sam.

Dinner was quiet. It used to be fun and loud when Sam would come over which dinner (which was like, always.) After dinner Freddie went home and I went upstairs to go to bed. I grabbed my laptop and continued reading the poem.

_Other echoes_

_Inhabit the garden_

_Shall we follow?_

_Quick, said the bird, find them, find them_

_Round the corner, through the first gate,_

_Into our first world, shall we follow_

_The deception of the trush? Into our first world._

_There they were, dignified, invisible,_

_Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,_

_In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,_

_And the bird called, in response to_

_The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery_

_And the unseen eyebeam, crossed, for the roses_

_Had the look of flowers that are looked at._

_There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting._

_So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,_

_Along the empty alley, into the box circle, _

_To look down into the drained pool._

_Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,_

_And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,_

_And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly, _

_The surface glittered of heart of light,_

_And they were behind us, reflected in the pool_

_Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty._

_Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,_

_Hidden, excitedly, containing laughter._

_Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind_

_Cannot bear very much reality._

_Time past and time future_

_What might have been and what has been_

_Point to one end, which is always present._

I sighed. There was still more of that poem? Jeez, that was long. But beautiful too.

But how were we going to find Sam? That I didn't know right now.

**Author's Note: I don't own anything. Review and tell me what you think the poem means, and where you think Sam is.**


End file.
